


Sun Flares

by starwhims



Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 13:16:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21458659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwhims/pseuds/starwhims
Summary: Zoro won’t let himself cross a self imposed boundary that Sanji seems intent on kicking a hole through.
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 12
Kudos: 229





	Sun Flares

Sanji was like a fever that brings you dangerously close to death’s door. He was hot and fierce as the flames of hell, and he burned like the end of his cigarette. Zoro was annoyed by this ever present heat. The fox-like way Sanji walked, with his hands in his suit pockets and his cigarette hanging lazily between his thin lips, bothered Zoro’s most internal sense of self preservation. He saw Sanji as another predator to be challenged, and he hated that his brain sorted things into that kind of binary. 

This was why Zoro kept his distance from the blonde man. Why he might butt heads with him every so often but never let himself cross the line he had drawn in the sand, lest he be consumed by his lion’s heart. But lately this had become harder. Harder because Sanji had somehow come to sense his barrier and seemed intent on kicking a hole in it. 

Sanji, in his monotone drawl that resembled a slow exhale of curling cloud from the smoker’s lungs, intangible but filled the senses until it was gone as fast as it had come, had asked Zoro to test a curry recipe he was working on. It wasn’t a secret that he liked spicy food, so it made enough sense that the cook had asked him to do it, but it annoyed Zoro nonetheless. They were in the kitchen alone, the rest of the crew scattered across the ship, entrenched in their own activities.

Zoro barely ever set foot in the kitchen unless it was meal time. It overwhelmed his senses. The pricking smells from the spice cabinet, and the harsh fluorescent lights that peered down on him from above, not to mention the oppressive feel of cigarette smoke mixed with Sanji’s natural scent that permeated the entire room. All of it sent Zoro into override, and he generally tried to avoid it outside of breakfast. They usually ate lunch and dinner in the dining gallery which was completely devoid of all the sensory overload that the kitchen was steeped in. 

Sitting at the sturdy but plain kitchen table, Zoro tipped his chair back on its hind legs and had his feet resting on the table, just trying to adjust to the room. Sanji stirred the curry in silence, concentrating almost single mindedly on it. He was like this when he cooked. Like when Nami was practicing her cartography, nothing could distract him from his craft. 

“Oi! Get your shoes off the table! People eat there,” Sanji barked as he steadily dipped a ladle into the saucepan and poured it’s contents into a bowl. He set it on the table in front of Zoro, some kind of pretense in his eyes that Zoro couldn’t quite place. Grasping the spoon, he hesitantly dipped it in the bowl of chunky orange and honestly appetizing liquid. It even smells spicy, Zoro thought. He scooped the spoon into his mouth and was instantly met with what might have been the most delicious thing he had ever eaten. Not one to downplay people’s abilities no matter how he felt about the person themselves, Zoro wouldn’t lie and say that Sanji’s food wasn’t good, but this was something else. 

It was like a glaze, thick and coating his tongue. When he swallowed it began to burn, not brightly, but like the spiky side of a cat’s tongue. The spice didn’t set your tongue on fire, it was understated without losing out on any of the kick. Somehow Sanji had pinpointed the best and most smoothly spicy flavor he had ever tasted. 

Sanji coughed into his elbow, and it brought Zoro out of the flavor and into the kitchen once again. 

“You should stop smoking.” 

Sanji chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Yeah and you should stop drinking.” He sat down at the table and lit another cigarette. “How was it?” 

Zoro didn’t lie, but answering honestly wasn’t in his self imposed barrier’s best interest, so he responded simply.

“It’s good.” 

“Just good?” Sanji said. “That’s all?” 

“It’s good. What else do you want?” Zoro started leaning back on his chair legs again. 

Sanji sighed and crossed his arms. “I want constructive feedback. You’re the only person on the ship who likes anything spicier than mild salsa, and this recipe is specifically for people who like spicy food.”

“Okay...” he huffed. “I like that it’s not in your face. It sneaks up on you, like a snake.” Zoro looked at Sanji, but he didn’t seem satisfied with just that. He looked eager to hear more. “It’s texture is good, too. It coats your tongue which makes the spice harder to get rid of.” 

Sanji smiled almost devilishly and stood up from the table. “Thanks. That helped,” He said, almost curt in tone. “You can have the rest.” 

And with that he left Zoro alone at the table, wondering what exactly that had been all about. 

Docked at a port of a small fishing village, the multicolored late evening sky flickered through the 360 degree windows in crow’s nest of the Sunny. Zoro stood facing the sun, lifting weights and keeping watch. The entire crew had gone into town to go shopping and stock up on supplies for the coming voyage, leaving Zoro stuck in the crow’s nest turned training gym until they returned. 

He was still trying to get at what Sanji’s game had been with the curry. There was no way it was anywhere near as simple as the cook had wanted it to seem. Sanji was, by nature, a clever person. He had foresight most lacked and knew how to play on people’s strengths and weaknesses to his advantage, both in battle and out. Zoro knew this about Sanji, and in turn Sanji knew that Zoro was perceptive, just usually disinterested in what he perceived. Sanji had definitely wanted the swordsman to notice something about that interaction, but what was unclear yet. 

“Shit,” Zoro muttered to himself. He had been distracted by Sanji’s wily behavior and lost count of how many curls he had done. There was the sound of the hatch opening and a heave as someone lifted themselves onto the gym floor. Zoro didn’t turn around, he knew it was Sanji by the smell of cigarettes that was now filling the room. “Put that cigarette out; it’ll start smelling nasty in here.” 

Turning around he saw Sanji, his legs still dangling through the hatch, putting out the cigarette on the sole of his shoe. He pulled the pack out from his coat pocket and dropped the half smoked butt in, presumably saving it for later.

“You’re the first one back,” Zoro said, putting down the dumbells on the bench with a soft clink. 

“Yeah, I think everyone else is staying in town for the night.” Sanji looked around the room. Zoro couldn’t recall if Sanji had ever set foot in it. 

“Why aren’t you?” Zoro said, accustorily. The cook was up to something, and he didn’t know how long he could outrun it. 

“Gotta refrigerator some stuff and...” he trailed off. Zoro raised an eyebrow, that wicked pretense that had come around when Sanji set the curry down on the table was back and was more pronounced this time. 

“What’s that?” Zoro pointed to a paper bag Sanji had set next to himself on the floor. 

“Well, that’s the other reason I came back.” Standing up Sanji opened the paper bag and held out its contents to the swordsman. A large bottle of sake. “It’s top shelf. Best the liquor store had.” Zoro must have been scowling because Sanji began to laugh. “C’mon. It’s not poisoned, I promise.” 

What the hell, Zoro thought. It can’t hurt to share some booze with the guy. He took the bottle from Sanji and sat cross legged on the gym floor. Sanji did the same, but leaned up against the bench, his long legs stretching out in front of him. After opening and smelling the sake, Zoro went to take a swig, the astringent sour flooding his pallette. 

“S’good,” he said after the liquid ran down his throat leaving a burning sensation along the way. 

“Is everything just ‘good’ to you?” The blonde man said through a grin. 

“Sorry my vocabulary isn’t robust enough for you,” Zoro spat back. Nevertheless he handed the bottle to Sanji, who took a huge gulp of it, making a face as he swallowed. “Can’t handle the taste, lightweight?”

“I’m used to cooking alcohol. Sangria, sherry, mead. Fruitier.” 

It was Zoro’s turn to laugh now. Of course Sanji liked fruity alcohol. “I bet you like rose too, huh?” 

“Hell no. That shit tastes like perfume.” 

“Well, we finally found something we can agree on.” 

Sanji handed the bottle back to him. They went back and forth like this several more times until the world had started to become tinged at the edges and life moved in slow motion. Zoro had a high tolerance for alcohol, but that much sake would do anyone in at some point. Sanji stood up, stumbling a bit. 

“Well I should - I should go to bed,” he said slowly, slurring his words only slightly. This caught Zoro off guard. He couldn’t tell if it was the booze or his imagination, but there was no way that had been all Sanji wanted out of buying him a bottle of expensive sake. 

“What’s your endgame here?” 

He took a step back and fell into the bench. “I have no idea what you’re talking about moss head.” 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” 

Sanji was quiet for a moment, staring at the ceiling almost hypnotically. “I’m too drunk for this,” he said, closing his eyes. Zoro didn’t say anything. The man’s burn scorched him no matter the several feet in between them. He was his rival, for what he didn’t know. 

Sanji opened his eyes and locked gazes with Zoro. “I wanted to see how far I could push you.” 

“Push me?” 

“I know you avoid me. I know you have some kind of self imposed boundary with me you won’t cross. I just want to know why.” 

Zoro let out a deep sigh and took another swig of the sake. He was right that Sanji had picked up on it. He was right that this was some kind of game of cat and mouse, but he still had no idea what Sanji wanted from it. 

“You’re too much for me,” he managed to say.

“Huh?”

Zoro growled and stood up. Wiping his brow, he cursed to himself. “If I was sober, I could explain this better.” Sanji didn’t say anything, just kind of stared at the swordsman. And there that damn pretense was again. He was waiting for something, something specific, and Zoro didn’t know if he should give it to him or not. “There’s something deep inside me that tells me to stay away from you. It’s like - it’s like an instinct.”  
Standing up, Sanji approached Zoro. “You think I’m going to hurt you?” 

“It’s not like that!” He backed away from the cook. “It’s more like the other way around.” And there it was. Acknowledgement in his eyes. He understood exactly what Zoro was saying, and maybe to some degree felt the same way. 

As fast as a bolt of lighting Sanji’s mouth was on Zoro’s. It was white hot like a flash bomb and scorching like a gas stove. It was everything candescent in the world, and somehow that still wasn’t enough. His hands were all over Zoro. Like Luffy’s gum gum gatling, it was a frenzy of fingers grasping at something that might not even be there. 

It dawned on Zoro that this is what Sanji had wanted. A connection of bodies not minds. Between the booze and the blistering heat of Sanji’s lips, Zoro could barely keep a handle on himself, much less uphold the barrier. He was a dam, desperately trying to keep a rush of angry, boiling water at bay, and it was more difficult than anything in the world. 

Sanji pressed himself up against the swordsman, a brick wall of uncomfortable warmth. His teeth smashed into Zoro’s, but he kept his tongue away, besides a bit of dancing on the other man’s lips. Trying to keep it together, Zoro grasped hard on Sanji’s shoulders and roughly pushed him away. 

“What the fuck are you doing!?” he borderline shouted. Sanji’s face faltered, and he looked almost hurt by the tone. He didn’t say anything before opening the hatch and sliding his lanky body through the hole and climbing down wordlessly. Leaving Zoro yet again, to wonder what was going through his head. 

It was very early morning on the open sea. So early the sun had yet to peek out from the horizon, and the only sound that could be heard was from the hungry ocean lapping against the Sunny’s hull. Zoro hadn’t left the crow’s nest gym since the night before. Somehow the cold metal of the bench was more comforting than the men’s quarters tonight. 

It was impossible to get any sleep. His mouth was still charred from his encounter with the cook and he found it hard to focus on anything but the smolder. Sanji had left so hurriedly that his suit jacket was still on the floor. Picking it up, Zoro held it to his face, the scent of smoke and sweat filling his senses desperately.

He had ruined something that didn’t even exist, and somehow he still felt guilty about it. The look on Sanji’s face when he had pushed him away was an after image on his eyelids. He saw it every time he closed his eyes, keeping sleep from taking him. 

Zoro thoughtlessly pulled the half empty pack of cigarettes out from the suit jacket’s interior pocket along with the lighter that had been gifted by Zeff. Putting the half-smoked stick from the night before between his burnt lips, he made a flicking motion with his wrist and a flame came forth from the lighter. Zoro had smoked cigarettes before. Only on occasion though, and Sanji’s were hand rolled which caused the earthy taste to linger longer and scratch his throat like the needle of a tattoo gun. Gruffly, he let out a laugh at himself. He had told Sanji no less than a week ago to stop smoking and here he was smoking the man’s own cigarettes.

It wasn’t fair what the cook wanted from him. Sanji was kind and giving for the most part, but his selfish streaks were kindled by his own ego. Dammit, he had set boundaries for a reason. For both their sanity. 

Taking a long drag from the cigarette that hit him with lightheadedness, Zoro let everything slip from his mind and eventually he found himself calm. After finishing the smoke, he put the butt on the open windowsill of the crow’s nest and put the pack back. 

It was time to go down to the deck. The crew was probably worried about him skipping out on meals, even if they were too nervous to approach the crow’s nest. He climbed down the mast but was immediately frozen the minute he saw who was leaning against the railing, smoking idly.  
Goddammit. 

“Finally came out of your cave, huh?” he said over the whipping ocean breeze. Zoro was silent which forced Sanji to speak again. “Sorry about last night. I should have just let it go.” 

“You’re apologizing?” 

Sanji swiveled his head from the swirling waves and over to Zoro. He looked...tired. Sanji’s eyes were usually a least a little bit sunken and they sloped downwards dramatically on the outer edges, which gave them an eternally bored/tired aura but it was far more pronounced now. 

“Yeah? That’s typically what you do when you cross someone’s boundaries without permission.” His voice was hoarse, leading Zoro to believe he had been chain smoking all night. They were both silent for a moment, looking at each other for what seemed like the very first time.

“I was scared,” Zoro managed to say. “You illicit this response in me that just feels like it might eat me alive if I indulge.”  
Sanji laughed, high and clear like a bell. “God, you sound like you’re a werewolf. I’ve never heard something more melodramatic.” 

“Except what you say to women on a daily basis?” 

This made the cook laugh a little bit harder. “Got me.” 

Zoro approached the blonde man. Leaning against the railing, he let his hands dangle over the edge and feel the pure air brush against his finger tips. They stood and watched the sun climb above the horizon triumphantly and bathe the sky with warm hues. 

“You smell like cigarette smoke.” Sanji muttered. Fishing in his pocket, Zoro handed him the pack he had left in the gym, along with his lighter. 

“I took one, hope you don’t mind.” 

“The mighty and unadulterated by petty vices, Roronoa Zoro, smoked one of my cigarettes?” 

“If you tell anyone I’ll deny it.” 

They both laughed in unison, which elicited warmth in Zoro’s chest. This wasn’t the burn he often felt when he was around Sanji. It wasn’t painful or oppressive. Comfortable is the word that came to mind. 

Stretching his arms out, Sanji spoke, “I better get started on breakfast.” He pulled away from the railing but was stopped by Zoro’s hand on his forearm.

Zoro couldn’t believe he was doing this, but nonetheless he cupped the cook’s sharp jaw in his hand and gingerly pressed his lips to Sanji’s. His body was tense for only a few seconds before he melted into it. The warmth in Zoro’s chest flickered briefly but never hotter than a simmer. This is what he had been so afraid of? 

They kissed like feathers, almost as if they weren’t touching at all. A stark contrast to the night before. A kiss that had been suffocating versus a kiss that was as light as the air in their lungs. It was night and day. 

Sanji was the first to pull away, and as he did he let his nails that had worked their way up to the swordsman’s neck drag across the open skin. His delicate lips, that were swollen even just from the brief period they had been connected, were drawn into a smirk. 

“I win.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time writing zosan so forgive me if it’s terrible.


End file.
